Domestic Mission
by starhawk2005
Summary: When I'm alone, I laugh at myself about it. Maybe because it's the only problem I can't solve by rewiring, or re-engineering, or (re)inventing.
1. Chapter 1

**Domestic Mission Part 1**

**Het, Tony/Pepper**

I realize how ridiculous this is. I have no problem flying at an altitude of thousands of feet, in little more than an animated tin can.

I can stand in a hail of bullets and not even flinch as they hit the suit.

I can even withstand a direct bazooka hit (hell, I'll put myself right in the path of a shot, just to test the suit's capability).

All this, I can do without even breaking a sweat.

But telling Pepper Potts how I feel about her? Yeah, _that_ terrifies me.

When I'm alone, I laugh at myself about it. Maybe because it's the only problem I can't solve by rewiring, or re-engineering, or (re)inventing. I can't fix it with my hands (well, I _could_, but Pepper would probably deck me if I tried that way), so the solution doesn't come easily.

Mind you, I have made _some_ changes on that front. The last girls I took to bed were just for show, cover for a mission. I haven't slept with anyone since I came back from Afghanistan. Problem is, while I know Pepper has noticed this change in me, she probably has no clue what it really means.

And why should she? I flirt with her all the time, I always did, and it never meant anything. Why should she think now is any different?

I sigh, then I straighten up a little in my chair as the familiar tapping of her heels comes down the basement stairs, getting louder and louder.

I wish I knew what to do about this. Yes, she almost kissed me that night at the gala, but I know why she stopped herself. Because she's not sure that I'm really a new me. Yeah, the whole boss-employee thing is a pain, but would anyone really dare to say anything? No, I think it's just that she doesn't want to be another notch on the Stark bedposts. She doesn't want to risk herself, unless it's more serious than that. I can understand that. So how do I let her know that it is serious?

She's standing in front of me now, rattling off a list of engagements and meetings, none of which I care about. If it has nothing to do with the suit, or with her, I just don't give a fuck anymore.

I have to do something about this. I have to take a cue from this whole Iron Man thing. From the moment I got back from my imprisonment, I didn't question that I had a job to do, a penance to carry out. I didn't think, I just threw myself into it. Maybe that's the way to go in this situation, too?

"Pepper," I cut her off, before I can stop myself.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?" she asks, smiling a little. Waiting for me to brush off the list of to-dos, probably.

"You and me. Dinner. Tonight." God, awkward. If anyone was watching this, they'd probably be laughing their asses off. Tony Stark, suave ladies' man, turning into a fumbling teenager in one-point-five seconds flat. Good thing Jarvis has no emotion, or he'd be in hysterics right now.

She blinks, startled. "Mr. Stark-" she starts.

"It's _Tony_, Pepper," I correct her. "And no, this isn't a business thing. It's personal. I had lots of time to think, when they had me prisoner in Afghanistan. Time to think about what was really important in my life." I pause, letting it sink in.

"I think you can see the changes in me," I finally make myself continue. "I think you saw it that night, when we almost…well." My courage fails me for a second. Thrusters have stalled, gravity has taken over. Going down…

"Please, just say yes, Pepper," I finally say, when the silence gets too thick.

For a few moments, she just stands there, her face unreadable, and I try to figure out the probability of salvaging this. Maybe if she gets really angry or embarrassed, I can just pretend it was some kind of poorly-conceived prank? That's not how I want it to go, but it's better than having her walk out on me.

But then she smiles, and I think this might actually not be a total crash and burn.

"Alright," she says.

Relieved, I can't resist adding: "And don't worry. I won't expect you to put out until at least the fourth or fifth date."

Now she's smirking. "That's very thoughtful of you, Mr. S-_Tony_. Laying out the ground rules like that."

Yes, I do think I might actually not have screwed this up too badly, if I do say so myself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Domestic Mission, Part 2**

**Het, Tony/Pepper**

It's ridiculous, how nervous I am. I adjust and re-adjust my tie, wishing Pepper was here to do it for me, but she's not. She's making her own preparations, for our 'date'.

"Jarvis, is everything ready?" I call out.

"Yes sir," Jarvis says in his usual neutral way. Sometimes I wish I had similar _sangfroid_. Though I can have sex and he can't, so I guess it's an even trade. "The dining area has been set, the chefs are preparing the meal, the wine is decanting-"

"Good!" I say. I check my watch, a present from Pepper three years ago. Good thing I wasn't wearing it during my Afghanistan 'adventure'.

It's time. I clear my throat, check my reflection in the mirror for the thousandth time, and then head towards my dinner destination. A stairwell, two long hallways, and here it is. I stop to admire the place setting.

White tablecloth, silverware, tons of candles, and of course the view of the ocean through the large windows. It's romantic, alright.

Also terrifying. Normally, I don't have to 'court' women. A few well-placed flirts, and they're rolling into bed with me. This is _so_ different.

There's a sound behind me. I turn, and behold the object of my affection. Pepper is wearing a little black dress that I've either never seen before or don't remember seeing, with black pearls that I 'bought' her for a birthday several years ago, and her red hair is free and loose over her shoulders.

I tell myself I will _not_ sprout a pup-tent. I wish I had the Iron Man codpiece on, just to be safe.

She laughs gently, striding into the room on yet another pair of high-rise stilettos. "You look like a teenager on his prom night."

"No," I bluff. "I'm just terrified you'll trip and injure yourself." The familiar, comfortable banter helps. I pull out her chair for her, then settle myself across the short distance of table from her. At least I can drape my napkin over my lap now.

"Don't worry, I have many years of practice walking," she answers.

The waiter appears suddenly by my side, offering to pour the wine.

And so it begins, our first 'date'.

It goes easier than I expected. I thought we'd either talk shop, or perhaps about the Iron Man, two topics which I'm sure would make for crappy 'date' material.

But it's easier than that. There's surprisingly a lot about each other's pasts that we don't really know. Anecdotes, my stories about my first miserable (and often explosive) failures in engineering back in university, her stories about some rather clueless bosses she used to work for.

Before I know it, dessert is over, and Pepper is blotting her mouth with the napkin. Now comes the awkward moment. Well, _more_ awkward moment.

Normally, this is where I'd make my move. Come in for the kill, so to speak. Not this time, however.

Instead, I offer her my arm and lead her outside to the limousine, so Happy can take her home. I have to content myself with a kiss pressed to the back of her hand, a gentlemanly gesture which I'll want to kick myself for later, but she smiles and appears to appreciate it.

When she's gone and I'm back in my greasy clothes in the basement, tinkering with the suit as always, I'm glad I didn't try to push things. It's better this way. More special. And when – if – we do finally take that final step, won't it be all the better for the delay?

I wonder if I'll find out soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Domestic Mission, Part 3 **

**Smut, Tony/Pepper**

Our next few dates go much the same, except that we actually _go_ places. The second date, I take her to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Except I reserve the _entire_ restaurant, so we won't have to deal with any gawkers.

Third date, we visit a friend of mine in Dubai, staying in his luxurious villa for a week. Separate bedrooms, though, hard as it is when I see Pepper lounging by the massive pool in her little blue bikini. Still, I've decided that the best way to convince her that this is New Tony she's dealing with, is to let _her_ decide when things will move to the next level.

It's not easy, though. Except when it comes to engineering, I'm not a patient man. I'm used to getting women into bed in under sixty seconds, practically, so this is entirely new territory. Not that I don't like it, the wait is a kind of pleasant torment, but let's face it, it also has its frustrations.

Fourth date, though, we're back at the Malibu mansion for another intimate dinner. I had something more grand planned, a theatre show and another supposedly-impossible-to-book restaurant reservation, but an Iron Man mission that took longer than expected ruined those plans. But that's my new reality.

Apparently, that's not the only change. This time, as I move to escort Pepper to the limo, as has become my habit, she stops me. "Tell Happy he has the night off, Tony," she says softly, looking at me almost shyly, and my heart leaps in my chest. Something _else_ 'leaps' too, so to speak, but let's not go there.

I instruct Jarvis to let Happy know he's free to leave, and I let Pepper lead me off to wherever she wants to go in the mansion.

It turns out to be the guest bedroom, rarely used but kept impeccably clean regardless. Not _my_ bedroom, but I think I can figure out why. When she pulls me close and we kiss for the first time, I decide it's not important enough to figure it out.

Her lips are soft and her perfume is intoxicating, and I decide no act of passion I've ever engaged in, in the past, comes close to this. I think I'll die if I don't keep kissing her, though of course I don't. Die, that is.

Her skin is silkier than her dress, when she helps me remove it, her breasts gorgeous and lightly freckled. Her hands skim over the arc reactor, and I can see from her face that she remembers changing it for me, the things that were said. All true.

Pepper's touch is firm, even teasing, when I finally get my pants off and New Tony the Second is freed. I almost make a crack about how her 'personal assistant' capabilities are even more 'personal' – though excellent – than I realized, but I can't seem to get my mouth to work. Oh well, maybe later.

I touch her, softly stroking her clit, and she shudders and whispers my name, tightening her grip around me. Our eyes meet, and it's so intimate that I almost have to look away, but it also feels so very _right_.

When I'm finally inside her, it's almost unreal. It's not only that it's been months since my last sexcapade, but it's also that it's _her_.

And I love her.

I won't tell her that right now, it seems tacky to say it for the first time right in the middle of lust, but when we finish satisfying each other and we're lying in each other's arms, I can tell from her eyes that she knows. I don't have to say it.

Mission completed.


End file.
